The Dream: Sequel to A New Dawn
by spikeNdru
Summary: Connor is having a recurring mystical dream. He tells Dawn, she calls Giles, who contacts Wesley...each has a piece of the puzzle, but it doesn't come together until everyone gets involved. Warning: Chapter 4 contains character death.
1. Chapter 1

The Dream, Chapter 1

By spikeNdru, February 2004

AtS/BtVS

Story begins at the conclusion of A New Dawn.

Warning: Contains some spoilers for AtS Season 5. I wrote this between November 2003 and February 2004 and utilized some plot points from the series as they fit into my own concept.

Hank Summers' girlfriend, Linda Gutierrez, was created by Barb Cummings in her wonderful novella, "Necessary Evils". Barb graciously allowed me to borrow Linda for "A New Dawn". Linda doesn't actually appear in this story, but she is mentioned frequently. She still belongs to Barb. All AtS and BtVS characters still belong to Joss.

**Chapter 1**

He'd had The Dream again. He woke sweating and shaking and disoriented. He threw off the covers and padded on bare feet into the bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face. With only the faint glow of the nightlight as illumination, he stared at himself in the mirror. Sweat-dampened, stringy brown hair, flushed face dripping with cold water and haunted eyes, more gray than blue in this light, met his gaze and he quickly looked away. He ran the water until it was as cold as it was possible to get, filled the plastic cup on the sink, and gulped it down. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face, glanced once more at his reflection, and left the bathroom.

Returning to his own room, he peeled off his sweat-soaked T-shirt and dropped it on the floor. Clasping his hands behind him, he stretched out his aching shoulder muscles before opening the drawer to grab a clean T-shirt. He glanced at the rumpled bed with distaste and went to stand at the window instead. The drapes were still tied back; he hadn't bothered to close them when he went to bed. He looked out at the dark forest surrounding the house, knowing that what he feared was not out there-it was inside him. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass and tried, once again, to make sense of The Dream.

There were four separate people in the dream, but somehow, he knew they were all him. He was himself in the dream, his real self, but at the same time, he was also a baby. He thought the baby was supposed to be him, but the dream baby had different parents. There was a tall, strong father and a beautiful mother, with streaks of sunlight in her dark hair. The mother and father loved the baby very much, but there was an undercurrent of fear and desperation running through the love in this part of The Dream.

The Dream then expanded, and while he was both himself and the baby, he was also in hell. This part was never very clear-a bleak landscape, peopled with monsters and he was frozen with terror, his mouth open in a silent scream that seemed to go on forever. This hell alternated with a Mad Max version of Los Angeles with darkness and fires and fighting in the streets alternating with the gray, bleak landscape, both hells swirling together in confusion.

Then the faces of the loving parents changed . . . the tall, strong father became a monster with yellow eyes and fangs and the beautiful mother's look of love turned sly and evil and he didn't know what to believe, who to trust, the world tilted on its axis, and he was filled with bottomless despair and the silent scream continued as he woke.

He knew he wouldn't sleep any more tonight-he never did after having The Dream. Connor sighed and stepped back from the window. He may as well brush up on his chemistry as long as he was awake. Turning on his desk lamp, he slouched in his chair and began to read.

He woke, stiff and sore, slumped over his chemistry book. His momentary puzzlement was all too quickly replaced by awareness-he had had The Dream again. Pulling on a hooded sweatshirt and his Sauconys, Connor did some quick stretching and went out for a run.

The sun had just cleared the horizon and the slanted rays of light made the dew glisten on the leaves surrounding him. He caught his breath at the beauty of a world seemingly dressed in diamonds. Within minutes, his shoes were wet from slogging through damp pine needles and his lips twisted in a wry smile as the theme from an old TV show his sister loved to watch on Nick at Nite ran through his head. "You take the good, you take the bad, the Facts of Life . . ."

He heard a rustling in the trees to his left and a small doe bounded out of cover. Putting on a burst of speed, Connor kept pace with the deer and, this time, his smile was genuine. When he had cleared the last remnants of The Dream from his head, he turned and slowly jogged back to the house. He still had time for a long, hot shower before school, if he could just get to the bathroom before his sisters woke up!

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The last bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day. Dawn leaned back in her chair, waiting for the bottleneck at the door to clear, before gathering her stuff and joining the queue. Making her way to her locker upstairs she felt like a salmon swimming against the current as the thundering horde swept downstairs to freedom. Retrieving her jacket and the books she would need for tonight's homework, she turned to see Connor lounging against the wall. She felt a brief flash of surprise and concern at this change in routine. He generally left right after school for his part-time job and then called her after dinner before tackling homework. If they stayed caught up on their school work during the week, they had more time to spend together on weekends, so seeing him like this was unexpected.

"Hey."

"Hey. What's up?" she responded.

Connor shrugged, but Dawn could see the neediness in his eyes.

"I don't know . . . I just needed to talk to you. This is really stupid . . ." His voice trailed off and Dawn placed her hand gently on his forearm.

"Lemme call Linda and we can go for a walk or something."

They left the building and Dawn paused at the base of the steps to dig out her cell phone; letting Linda know she may not be home for dinner, and promising periodic updates of her whereabouts.

They walked across the parking lot to Connor's forest green Jeep, and he unlocked and opened the door for her. Sliding behind the wheel, Connor made no move to turn on the ignition. Dawn sat quietly, watching his knuckles turn white as he gripped the wheel. Finally, he took a deep, shuddering breath and turned to her.

"You remember that creepy hotel we saw the first time we went to the movies?" he asked. Dawn nodded, without taking her eyes from his face.

"Well, I've been having . . . dreams . . . and they're somehow connected to that hotel."

"Do you want to talk about them?" Dawn asked tentatively.

"No . . . but I think I need to . . . and you're the only one . . ."

Dawn covered his right hand and ran her thumb across his bloodless knuckles. He let out an explosive breath and relaxed his grip on the wheel.

"Let's get out of here . . . I need some air!"

Exiting the car, Connor began to walk rapidly across the parking lot, Dawn almost running to keep up. He fairly sparkled with kinetic energy and the words burst from him as he related The Dream to Dawn.

". . . and it's somehow connected to that hotel we saw," he concluded, and paused for a deep breath.

"Have you always . . . do you remember when you first started having the dream?" Dawn asked.

Connor thought about her question. "I think . . . it first started the night after we went to buy the swords. You know . . . we haven't really talked about it, but those things . . . in the parking garage . . ."

Dawn nodded. "They were demons," she said pragmatically. Connor raised an eyebrow and Dawn laughed.

"I'm not crazy and neither are you. Yep, demons are real. And so are vampires and werewolves and hellgods and witches . . . only they're really not old and ugly and warty and stuff. They can be totally beautiful and nice . . . when they're not going all veiny and homicidal and trying to destroy the world and all, but that doesn't happen very often . . . with the witches I mean, actually, the destroying of the world part happens pretty often." She cheerfully continued, "One of my best friends was a vampire. He used to baby-sit me when I was younger and my friend Xander was engaged to a 1200 year old ex-demon. She became human, but he stood her up at the alter, so she became a demon again, but then she went back to being human and was killed when we closed the Hellmouth . . ."

The spate of words trickled to a stop as Dawn glanced at Connor in apology.

"And this is just way too much information for you, isn't it? I'm supposed to be listening while you tell me about your dream."

"So, all that stuff is real? That explains a lot, including how certain archetypes are almost universal across cultures . . . so it's not a universal unconscious . . . they all actually exist?"

"Yeah-huh. Well, except for leprechauns. My friend Mr. Giles says they're still a myth. Hey! I know! We could call Giles about your dream. He knows all about stuff like that . . . I'm sure he'd help us figure it out."

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Giles replaced the phone in its cradle and, out of long habit, began polishing his glasses while processing Dawn's call. She seemed to be adjusting well to her new life, although he suspected that was due more to Linda's generosity of spirit than to any contribution of Hank's. Her grades were excellent and she had made friends, although he felt a twinge of concern regarding her special friend, this boy Connor.

The reoccurring dream of his would definitely bear further study. His personal library was intact-thank heavens Robin Wood hadn't taken him up on his impulsive offer to supply books to the high school library-but the loss of the Council resources was an incalculable blow.

Sliding his glasses back on his face, he was struck by a sudden thought. Hadn't Roger said something about Wesley the last time they had met? He had gone to his club for a drink and Roger had been there-holding court. The man was such a pompous git! Giles had tried to sidle by unnoticed, but Roger was entrenched in his _Hail fellow, well met_ mode and Giles was forced to either speak to him or display overt rudeness. Not that that pillock would recognize a social cut if it jumped up and bit him on the nose! He was so absolutely convinced of his own importance he could not even entertain a contrary opinion.

Giles had continued to navigate the room, while not appearing to do so, and politely asked after Roger's family, a conversational gambit destined to guarantee brevity, as Roger had very little interest in any topic than Roger, himself. Now what had he said about Wesley? Oh, yes, he was now apparently employed in the Research Department of a supernatural law firm. Roger was obviously disdainful of his son's career choice, but Wesley may have access to resources he, Giles, did not. He would peruse his own collection first, but if he failed to turn up anything relevant, contacting Wesley at Wolfram and Hart might be an option.

Lighting the gas under the far burner, Giles put the kettle on to boil and prepared to go into Full Research Mode.

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Linda had to work late, so Dawn planned to make dinner as a surprise for her. How hard could it be? The directions were right on the box and she could read . . . it was a simple matter of following the steps. Brown one pound of ground beef in a large skillet, drain. She could do that. Mom and Linda and Tara had all made it look so effortless. Maybe there was a cooking gene? Apparently neither she nor Buffy had inherited it! Opening cupboard doors, she located the colander Linda used for spaghetti. Dumping the meat in to drain, she read the rest of the directions. While she waited for the meat-milk-water-and-contents-of-both-packets to turn into Cheeseburger Macaroni, Dawn thought about Connor's Dream. Giles was gonna research prophecies and dreams and stuff, but there should be something she could do. The hotel! Connor thought The Dream was somehow connected to that hotel-the Hyperion? She could research the hotel . . . find out who owned it, check old newspapers for its history, things like that! She'd take the bus to the library after school tomorrow while Connor was at work.

Feeling better now that she had an actual plan, Dawn opened a bag of salad and filled three bowls, then stirred the dinner-glop. Linda was really gonna be surprised!

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Dawn stood and stretched out the kinks in her back and shoulders. Gathering up her notes, she returned the microfiche rolls to the resource desk and pulled the bus schedule from her shoulder bag. She had time for a cup of coffee and a donut before she had to catch the bus home. Geez, Connor wasn't wrong when he had said bad things happened there! There seemed to be cycles of murder and disappearances connected with that hotel going way back!

It had been built in the 20's and was apparently THE in-place to be when it first opened. Gangsters and gin and all-night parties! A Federal raid turned violent and the combination of mass-murder and the Depression shut the Hyperion down until it reopened during the post-War boom in the late 40's. A few years as a normal hotel, then what'd'ya know? Suddenly you've got murderous bellhops and guests lynching each other and bodies in meat lockers! The hotel closes again. Last year it reopens, but not as a hotel. It's sort of a cult house, people flock to it from all over the city, then more murder and mayhem and it shuts down again. Dawn figured a trip to the County Recorder's office to track down the owners would be on tomorrow's agenda. But first, she'd call Connor when she got home and fill him in on what she'd learned today.

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While waiting for their pizza, Dawn and Connor tried to make sense of the information they had unearthed. The Hyperion had remained dormant until 2000, when it was leased, with option to buy, by . . . Angel Investigations. Lawyers from Wolfram and Hart had spent the next two years filing building code violations and doing all kinds of things to get Team Angel out. Then the mystery cult appeared, WH purchased the building and A.I. disappeared. Dawn tried to fill Connor in on the back-story.

"Um, you know I told you Sunnydale was built on a Hellmouth? This is gonna sound all crazy and delusional, but I swear it's true . . . every bit!"

Connor laced his fingers through Dawn's and reached out with his other hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"I trust you, Dawn, and I'm willing to listen to whatever you have to say."

Dawn took a deep breath. "Okay, my sister and her friends fought the forces of darkness in Sunnydale for years . . ."

Connor threw back his head and laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. He took a breath, opened his mouth to speak, but was again gripped by gales of laughter. People were starting to stare, as helpless giggles erupted from Dawn.

"Um, maybe we'd better get the pizza to go?" Dawn gasped.

The man behind the counter seemed more than happy to accommodate them.

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Sitting cross-legged in the back of the jeep with the cardboard pizza box between them, they finally managed to regain some control.

"Your sister's boyfriend was a vampire?" Connor asked, managing not to burst into laughter again, but his lips quivered at the restraint.

"Two of them were . . . her other boyfriend was sorta normal, except he was in a special branch of the military and worked for a mad scientist that built a Frankenstein monster."

"When you told me before about demons and vampires being real, that was cool, but I hadn't actually thought about people dating them. I figured they would be more the one-night stand type . . . instead, it's like 'Mom, Dad, I want you to meet my boyfriend Pete. He's an Undead-American?' "

"I never actually thought about it that way," Dawn confessed. "It all seemed pretty normal at the time. I mean, my sister dated vampires, her best friend was in love with a really cool musician, who also happened to be a werewolf, then she went gay and fell in love with a beautiful witch." Tears glistened in Dawn's eyes and Connor reached for her hand.

"I loved Tara. She was just the best person ever. She . . . she really cared about me, you know? My mom died and then my sister died . . ."

Connor looked up in surprise. From the way Dawn had talked about her, he was sure her sister was alive-hadn't Dawn said she was in Europe? Oh, maybe she had two sisters . . .

"Everybody was pretty much wrapped up in their own stuff. But not Tara. She was always there for me. She always remembered me." Dawn grew quiet, thinking about Tara, and then continued. "Spike was there for me, too. I mean, he always protected me and wouldn't let anything happen to me. But he wasn't there . . . emotionally. He was . . . pretty much closed off. See, he really loved Buffy, and when she died, it almost killed him, too. I think he was just keeping it together cause of me. He promised her he'd take care of me, but he wasn't really there, ya know? Nobody else really noticed, but then, they didn't see Spike like I did, I guess."

Dawn covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Shoving the pizza box away, Connor moved to sit beside her, and put both arms around her, holding her close. Dawn looked up with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I miss Tara and Spike so much!"

Connor continued to hold her, stroking her hair and making inarticulate murmuring sounds. When she had cried herself out, Dawn sat up and blew her nose on a handful of scratchy paper napkins. She glanced at Connor through half-closed eyes, afraid she had made a fool of herself, but was reassured to see only concern in his eyes.

"I can't even imagine what your life must have been like! I've been really lucky. My parents are great, and I've always known they love me. The weirdest thing I've had to deal with is my mom's continuing obsession with hair bands!" He grinned at Dawn. "When I was 13, she dragged me to a Bon Jovi concert, because my dad had a last minute emergency at work and couldn't go with her. Talk about embarrassing. Going to a concert with your MOM has to be the worst! I was so afraid someone would see me. And she kept screaming 'I love you, Jon!' and 'Richie, you rock!' and she knew all the words to all the songs."

Giggles were bubbling up from Dawn and she scrubbed away the last of the tears. Connor shook his head.

"I suppose it could have been worse. . . it could have been a Poison concert!"

Dawn threw her arms around him and gave him a hug.

"Thank you," she said. "For everything!"

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Connor found it hard to concentrate on his homework. All the things he and Dawn had talked about were jumbled together in his mind.

_Vampires and witches and werewolves, oh my!_ he paraphrased Dorothy. On the heels of that thought came another. _Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore!_

He supposed Angel investigations would be the place to start. They had been based in the Hyperion before it was taken over by a cult . . . they must know something. It shouldn't be too hard to track them down. And A.I. was run by one of Buffy's ex-boyfriends, so they knew Dawn and would probably help. He wondered which boyfriend it was . . . the Frankenstein-creating mad scientist boyfriend or the vampire.

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Returning from the Cotswolds, Giles realized he hadn't eaten all day. He thought about stopping at the pub for a late supper, but there was so much to sort out he really didn't fell like socializing. He decided he would just get take-away and work until exhaustion caught up with him.

Stretching out the kinks in his back, he started the kettle for tea and dished up his curry. He added an extra measure of English Breakfast to the pot in hopes it would help keep him awake.

He bent to touch his toes several times, then settled himself at the kitchen table with his books, his notes, his curry and pot of tea.

Bernard Addison had been a close friend of his grandmother's and the old duffer had to be at least a hundred. Yet there he was, still living independently in his own cottage, growing vegetable marrows in the Cotswolds.

Bernard had been the best mystical psychic the Council had ever had, and he was still sharp as a tack. Unless, of course, he was completely barmy and just gave the appearance of being sharp as a tack. That was a distinct possibility. As was the possibility that Giles himself was completely barmy. Too soon to rule that one out!

He had laid out all the information he had gotten from Dawn and that he had gleaned from his own research, and Bernard has suggested three possibly relevant prophecies. One involved a race of immortals and a prize, one involved something called a Shanshu, which could mean either to live or to die, and one involved the child of two vampires.

_Take your bloody pick_, Giles thought. _They're all equally impossible and it looks like I may have to believe three impossible things before breakfast._

The latter two seemed to involve the vampire with a soul though, so he guessed he should concentrate on them to start. They had to refer to Angel. Er, wait! Spike also had a soul now-would that throw a spanner in the prophecies? Probably not, as Spike allegedly sacrificed himself to close the Hellmouth, or at least that's what Buffy believed. In any event, with Spike out of the picture, it looked like he was back to Angel.

Giles poured another cup of tea, then got up and went to the odds and ends drawer where he kept an old packet of cigarettes for the occasional indulgence. Lighting up, he sat back at the table and thought about the moment when Bernard's milky, ancient eyes had seemed to go black as he spoke about apocalypses and portents and betrayals. He mentioned corruption from within the belly of the Beast and the end of time.

Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose and flipped through his notes to find Bernard's exact words. Hmmm, apocalypses, plagues, vampire with the soul. Where was the other prophecy? Ahhh, here it is:

"_That which was up will come down, the potential for peace will be ended, the champions will go down into the belly of the Beast and, if corrupted, will release the time traveler who will bring about the end of time. This can only be averted by the child of two vampires and he will not be known, except by his dreams will ye know him. The key will unlock the dream. The dream will unlock the power."_

Bloody hell! It had to be! It was staring him right in the face. Forget Gatherings and Immortals and vampires with souls living or dying or living until they die-it had to be this prophecy. Dawn had been the one to call him about her friend's reoccurring dream and . . . "The Key will unlock the dream." Checking the time, Giles picked up the phone to call Wesley.

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Hanging up the phone, Wesley noticed his hands were shaking. His whole body, in fact, seemed to be overloaded with adrenaline and the "fight or flight" response felt immediate. He deliberately drew in long, slow breaths to calm himself.

"The child of two vampires." That phrase had meaning for him, he knew it did. His mind just refused to cooperate in supplying any particulars. Well, then, start with the body if the mind wouldn't-or couldn't-function. What was his body telling him? Pain, fear and betrayal. Had he betrayed someone or had he been the one to be betrayed? He couldn't tell, but the sense of betrayal was strong. His hand touched his throat. It was smooth and unmarked, as usual, yet he felt the echoes of a phantom pain.

"_The champions will go down into the belly of the beast _. . ." Angel had said that recently about their working for WH. He nervously tapped his pen on the blotter, faster and faster, and stared at the words of the prophecy Giles had related to him. "_That which was up will come down_" could very well refer to Cordelia's ascension and return last year; "_the potential for peace will be ended_" obviously must refer to their stopping Jasmine.

He abruptly stood and went to pour himself a glass of cold water from the pitcher that stood on the sideboard. He had always been fascinated by mystical research and ancient prophecies-but it was more than a little unsettling when those prophecies seemed to actually be about you and your friends.

Wes sat down again and took out a yellow legal pad. He separated the prophecy into three parts. The first part resonated strongly and almost certainly applied to the A.I. team. Giles seemed to understand the key and the dream part. That left the middle: The time traveler who will bring about the end of time and can only be stopped by the child of two vampires. Time to hit the books.

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Connor was exhausted. His previously limitless energy was flagging. He had been having The Dream nightly for the past week which had seriously disrupted his sleep patterns. That, in addition to his full schedule of school, studying, his job and spending all of his time with Dawn researching instead of relaxing was beginning to affect even his normally sunny disposition.

He felt old and tired and not at all like himself. Maybe he should have left things alone. It seemed like by focusing on The Dream, he was giving it more power. He had hoped to get rid of The Dream-not have it take over his life.

He loved school, and generally enjoyed his classes, but now it was a struggle to just get through the day. He was glad that Art was his next class. He always found Art both relaxing and invigorating, so hopefully he'd feel better soon.

The blinds were drawn and the Art room was dim as he entered and found his seat. Mrs. Scarpino announced that she would be showing slides of paintings and sculptures taken during her recent trip to Italy. Connor tried to pay attention, but felt his eyelids getting heavier until they finally drifted closed. He was awakened by a soft touch on his face. His blue eyes snapped open and he stared in wonder at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She looked like an angel. Her soft blonde hair framed her face, and eyes the same color as his own looked at him with boundless compassion and love. Her delicate hand cupped his cheek and she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead and whispered in his ear, "You're needed, my darling boy. You must stop Sahjhan. Only you can do it." Tenderly brushing his hair back from his face, she smiled radiantly and added, "I always loved you. Never doubt that."

Connor's eyes blinked in the sudden glare of the overhead lights. Mrs. Scarpino was standing by the door with her hand on the light switch, and his beautiful blonde angel was gone.

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Connor sat in his Jeep waiting for Dawn, sketchbook propped on the steering wheel, attempting to capture the . . . vision? angel? that had appeared to him in Art. He added a bit more shading to the hollows of her cheeks and a slightly higher arch to the graceful wings of her eyebrows. There!

He glanced up to see Dawn searching the parking lot and he got out of the Jeep and waved. She hurried over and he enfolded her in a hug that restored his sense of connection and somehow made everything seem less dire.

"I missed you," he murmured, burying his nose in her hair, which smelled like lavender and sunshine.

"I missed you, too. How're you holding up?" Dawn pulled gently away so she could study his face, a small frown line forming between her brows.

"Better, now that you're here," he smiled and her return smile made her whole face glow.

With his arm around her shoulders, continuing to hold her close, they moved around the Jeep together so Connor could unlock the passenger door for her.

Dawn picked up the sketchbook and slid into the seat. She raised one eyebrow in an unspoken quest for permission, and at his self-conscious nod, began to flip through his drawings.

"These are good-you're really talented!" Dawn exclaimed, pausing to study a sketch of a fawn dappled in sunlight. How did he do that using only a pencil? The sense of color seemed to permeate the drawing which was actually only done in shades of grey. She flipped to the last drawing and raised startled eyes to his face.

"When and where did you ever see Darla?" she asked in a shocked voice.

Connor explained about his experience in Art and Dawn closed the sketchbook with an audible snap.

"We have to call Giles right away!"

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_As the three Fates spun the shining threads of a mystical convergence . . ._

In Bath, Giles made reservations for a transatlantic flight.

In his basement apartment, Spike abruptly awoke with the dreaded certainty that the Bit was in danger.

In his office, Wesley continued to research ancient prophecies, unable to shake the feeling that he should know more than he actually did know.

In his luxurious penthouse, Angel tossed and turned, dreaming of blood and betrayal and loss.

In another dimension, Darla continued to watch over her beloved son.

In a restricted area, deep within WH, Gunn searched for something, looking through the glowing, golden eyes of a panther.

In their Headquarters Dimension, the Senior Partners prepared for "their" apocalypse.

In his safe, normal home, Connor had The Dream again.

**Continued in Chapter 2**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Dream**

by spikeNdru**  
**

**Chapter 2 **

Flying over the majestic sweep of the American continent, Giles' thoughts were in a jumble, and he failed to notice even the beauty of the Rockies, which was usually his favorite part of the NY-LA flight.

He had already secured his tickets and was in the process of packing when Althenea had rung him up. A smile ghosted over his lips as he replayed their conversation in his mind.

She had threatened to start charging him "vision fees" if these yearly "There's a dark power rising in California" warnings were going to continue indefinitely, and had gently teased him about his assurances that the Hellmouth had been closed, so her second yearly vision would be the last. Apparently not, as she had now had a third!

This time, at least, he could enter the fray pure in heart. During the last two apocalypses he had been plagued by guilt that he was partially at fault-that he had failed both Willow and Buffy and thus helped to bring about the circumstances that lead to near disaster. Now, he felt strong and sure and able to help without reservations. He had rediscovered that calm, peaceful inner core of strength that allowed him to help just because it was the right thing to do, rather than to try and fix a mistake he had made. He hadn't realized how much he had missed that feeling until he had gotten it back. He was profoundly grateful.

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Although he was feeling rather strung out from too much coffee and too little sleep over the last few days, and bearing a strong resemblance to the British version of the unshaven, stubbly, rumpled Marlboro Man, Wesley found himself grinning like a fool during the entire trip to the airport to pick up Giles. . . in the Lamborghini!

"BMW, the Ultimate Driving Machine? Ha! Not bloody likely!" Clearly the BMW admen had never driven a Lamborghini.

The last time he had actually seen Giles was at the Sunnydale graduation. Wes laughed out loud. Wait till Giles got a peek at Marlboro!Wes pulling up to the terminal in a Lamborghini.

"Bloody marvelous! You've come a long way, baby. Yes, indeed."

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Giles heaved a sigh of relief upon arrival at Wes' perfectly normal flat. He had been dreading finding something akin to Hugh Heffner's Playboy Mansion after the prat had driven up in that ridiculous bright yellow penis-on-wheels of a car! How ostentatious! Couldn't even compare to his own sporty red BMW convertible, which unfortunately was currently at the bottom of a giant crater, or he'd show Wesley what "ultimate driving machine" really meant.

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Giles showered while Wes put together a simple meal of chicken cutlets, Stove Top stuffing and peas. Giles was tired from his long trip, but couldn't help noticing that poor Wes looked completely knackered. Wes put the dinner plates on the kitchen table and added two pint cans of Guinness before wearily sinking into his chair.

"I'm sorry. The peas are a bit mushy," he apologized.

Giles smiled happily. "I like mushy peas. Nearly everyone in California serves the veg half raw."

After dinner, Giles offered to do the washing up while Wes had a turn at the shower. They then retired to the sitting room to go over their information.

"I think a verbal rundown of our findings would best serve for tonight. We're neither at our best and a good night's sleep would help put things in perspective," Giles suggested. Wes concurred.

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Wes and Giles had been working for several hours when Wes got up to make a pot of tea. Wes filled the kettle and put it on to boil. He had located a packet of biscuits and was in the process of opening them, when Giles called from the sitting room.

"Wes, do you know anything about the Nyazian prophecies?"

"Yes. No. . . I don't know." Wes came to the doorway, biscuits in hand, with a very disconcerted look on his face. "When you asked about the Nyazian prophecies my first response was, yes, I have studied them, I know about them. Before I could form the words, it was as if a wall went up in my mind-a wall keeping me from accessing that information."

Giles removed his glasses and began polishing them automatically. He looked at Wes with a focused interest.

"Does the wall feel like 'it's on the tip of my tongue, but for now I can't access it' or does it feel. . .mystical?"

Concentrating on the feel of the mental blockage, Wes jumped, dropping the cookies, as the kettle began to whistle loudly. Wes hurriedly made the tea, and brought the pot and the unopened biscuits to the table, forgetting to put them on a plate.

"It feels decidedly mystical. No matter what direction I try to come at the information from, it's like a roadblock, sending my thoughts in another direction."

"Hmmm," Giles replied. "A spell of some kind, do you think?"

"Possibly," Wes agreed. "I suggest we collate the information we have and then talk to Angel. I haven't wanted to make anything known at Wolfram and Hart up until now, because I do have some concerns about the whole operation. W&H had been a strong force for evil for centuries before we took it over, and I am beginning to have my doubts about how effective the changes we've made really are. Do you remember Rutherford Sirk, Giles?"

"Of course. Renegade Watcher who stole some priceless books and mystical artifacts from the Council before disappearing. He's rather infamous in our circles."

"Yes, well, when he 'disappeared' from the Council, he apparently came to work for W&H. He had been head of the Research Department until Angel Investigations took over the LA branch. I was nominally his supervisor, but I doubt if he accepted that. Several months ago, he disappeared from here. I'm wondering if perhaps he performed some kind of forgetting spell to keep me from remembering what he had been working on?"

"That's a strong possibility," Giles agreed. "Let's get what we do have in a coherent order to discuss with Angel, and also make note of what we may have that possibly is mystically blocked."

xxxxxxxxxx

Giles studied Angel's face as Wes presented their information. His expression morphed from polite distraction to interest to incredulity to currently looking like he had been gobsmacked by a fish. A rather large sturgeon, actually.

Angel put both hands flat on his desk and stood, leaning forward to stare at the Watchers.

"Let me get this straight. Buffy's sister Dawn is really a mystical Key that opens dimensions. She's been living with her father in LA. She's. . .dating. . .a boy named Connor who is having mystical dreams. She called Giles about the dreams. He came up with several possible relevant prophecies, which you've pretty much narrowed down. You're stumped by the one part about the child of two vampires being the only one to stop the time traveler and you think it connects to the Nyazian prophecies which Wes should remember but doesn't, and Darla appeared to this Connor in a vision and told him he was the only one who could stop Sahjhan?"

"Yes, well, that pretty much sums it up," Wes agreed.

Angel ran his hands through his hair and went to stand by the necro-tempered window, looking down at LA, but seeing nothing. Without turning, he said, "Let me think about all this. Go get some lunch and then we'll talk."

xxxxxxxxxx

Angel was still blindly staring out the window when Spike burst into his office, more agitated than usual.

"Do you know where Dawn is?" he demanded.

"Dawn?" Angel half turned to look at him.

"Yes 'Dawn', you git! The Slayer's little sis? You remember Dawn? Or were you so focused on Buffy you didn't even notice she had a mum and a sister?"

"I'm aware of who Dawn is. Why is she any concern of yours?"

"The Li'l Bit and I were friends. I took care of her, protected her after Buffy. . . We were close, alright? She's in danger. I had a dream that she's in danger and I bloody well won't let anything happen to her again, so if you know anything about where she is or what danger she's in you bloody well tell me right now!'

"Calm down, spike. Stop pacing and sit down and I'll tell you."

xxxxxxxxxx

Returning from lunch, Giles stopped dead, staring at the blonde behind the reception desk.

"Harmony?"

"Hey, Mr. Giles. Long time, no see, huh?"

"What on earth are you doing here?"

"She's Angel's secretary," Wesley explained.

"Assistant," Harmony corrected. "Why does everybody keep getting that wrong?" She glared at Wesley. "I suppose you probably still call flight attendants 'stewardesses', don't you?"

"Well, that's neither here nor there," Wes replied. "We have a meeting with Angel and I don't know how long we'll be. Will you please hold all calls and see that there are no interruptions until we notify you differently?"

"Sure," Harmony agreed. "Oh, wait!" She came around the desk and handed a mug of blood to Giles. "Would you give this to the Boss for me?"

Wes opened the ornate double doors and gestured for Giles to go first.

CRASH!

Three pairs of eyes stared at the smashed mug and its gourmet blend of pig-and-otter blood seeping all over the parquet floor. Giles didn't notice either the loud crash or the spilled blood. He stared in shock at the peroxide blonde wrapped in black leather.

"Oh, ballocks!" Spike glared at Angel. "You didn't tell me Rupert was here!"

"I had other things on my mind, Spike," Angel practically spat out.

"Yeah, well, the cat's out of the bag now, innit?"

"Spike! You're alive?" Giles was clearly in a state of shock.

"Well, 'undead and kicking' anyway," Spike replied. "Is Buffy. . . alright?"

"What? Oh, yes, she's fine. She's. . . How did you? We thought you'd died. . ."

"Well, I did die, din't I? Burned to a crisp in Sunnyhell. Somehow got sucked into the amulet which somehow got sent to Peaches and before you can say 'Bob's your uncle' I'm Caspering around bloody Wolfram and Hart. Another mysterious package recorporealizes me and now I help the helpless and Dawn's in danger. Angel said Wes, and you, apparently, have information that'll help me protect her, so let's have it."

Still feeling dazed, Giles sat in one of the chairs around the conference table and Wes placed a glass of brandy in his trembling hand.

"I'm profoundly sorry, Giles. With all that is going on, I had quite forgotten Spike and that you didn't know he was back."

Giles drank down the brandy and felt marginally better. "Yes, well then, I suppose we had better get on with it, hadn't we? I'd like to speak with you later, Spike, about your experiences, if you don't mind?"

Spike nodded, and relieving Wesley of the bottle, took a long drink himself.

xxxxxxxxxx

The Senior Partners were very pleased. Those that had mouths actually smiled. Baal called the meeting to order.

"I trust things are on schedule for our little apocalypse?" he queried.

"Yessss," responded Lilith. "The mystical convergenssss issss near. The playerssss are in possssition."

The Morningstar provided the details. "Charles Gunn is completely under our control. He has accepted Teotixouxin, the Jaguar God, into his being. Even now, he is searching for the urn. He will release Sahjhan when the time is right."

Baal listened to the clicks and chitters of one of the insectoid Partners.

"Yes," Baal agreed. "We must make sure Sahjhan does not stop time too precipitously. The timing of this phase is especially delicate. We must bleed The Key allowing the portals to open right before Sahjhan does his part. The Key will then be frozen in time as will everyone else in this dimension. With all the portals open, the time flux will bleed into all other dimensions, allowing us to effect the necessary changes at our leisure."

Buoyed by the nearness of their inevitable success, the Senior Partners had gotten careless. Unable to even consider the thought that anyone could or would fail to desire the culmination of eons of planning leading up to the moment of their own very special apocalypse, no one noticed the faint shimmer of the being who had been privy to their secret war council winking out of existence.

Manifesting back in her own quarters, Lilah Morgan smiled.

xxxxxxxxxx

Seated at the head of the conference table, facing Wesley, Giles and Spike, Angel was afraid to begin. He knew he was stalling, when he found himself imagining a warm pair of hands touching his shoulders. He looked around, but of course no one was there. His vampire senses would have registered a person behind him long before they got close enough to touch him. He felt a soft, warm breath on his cheek and seemed to hear Cordelia's voice in his ear.

It's time. You have to tell them. I'll be with you. I'll always be with you.

Angel squared his shoulders and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. He smiled brightly.

"Does anyone want coffee? Tea? A snack? Gum?"

"Angel," Wesley said reprovingly. "Putting it off isn't going to make it any easier. If there's something unpleasant that we should know, perhaps you should just tell us."

The ghastly smile faded from Angel's face. He glanced briefly at Wes and then looked down at the table, his eyes unfocused.

"Wes thought he should know about the Nyazian prophecies. At one time he did. The original prophecy said "The child of the vampire with a soul will grow to manhood and kill Sahjhan." Sahjhan is a time manipulator. He went back in time and changed the original prophecy to "The Father will kill the Son." Using that erroneous information, Wes set in motion a series of events that ended in a way I couldn't live with. I made a deal with Wolfram and Hart and part of the deal was that Wes, Fred, Gunn and Lorne all got their memories modified. When Wes made his decision, he thought he was acting for the greater good. It didn't turn out that way, but, now, I'm willing to accept that his intentions were good. Mine weren't. I didn't give a shit about the greater good. I did what I did to save two people I cared about more than anything in the world. And in return, I agreed to run W&H."

Wes was stunned. He raised anguished eyes to Angel. "If Giles and I hadn't come to you with this information, would you ever have told me that you violated my mind? That, even now, I have no idea which of my memories are valid and which are manufactured?"

Angel met Wes' eyes. "Probably not," he baldly admitted.

"I see," Wes murmured. "And now? Are you going to supply the full story with all the missing pieces, or is this a 'need to know' situation, in which you will decide to tell me what you think I need to know to deal with the current crisis and continue to withhold the rest?"

Angel and Wesley silently locked eyes.

"Some things are better not to know," Angel stated.

"Quite true," Wes agreed. "But you don't get to make that decision for others. You're not a god, Angel, and we're not your pawns to be used at will. We're sentient beings. We have our own will."

"OK, Wes," Angel snapped. "I'll tell you everything. But after this is over. After we stop this thing. Cause I really don't think I could continue to work with you on this if we have to dredge it all up now! There's too much pain and betrayal involved and I don't have time to deal with that now. We'll talk-later."

Wes nodded, accepting the caveat. "And Fred, Lorne and Gunn?"

"No. We don't tell them anything right now. We need Fred focused, not conflicted, while we deal with this. We still don't really know what W&H did to Gunn when they messed with his head and I don't want him in on this. What we discuss here stays with the four of us. We're in the belly of the beast and I don't know who can be trusted, so it's just us. Are we clear?"

Spike touched the flat of his hand to his brow in salute to Angel. "Cheers! Our very own Scrappy Gang."

Giles cleared his throat. "The Ashkanazian prophecy related to 'the child of two vampires' and the Nyazian mentions 'the child of the vampire with a soul'. Are both prophecies referring to one entity or are they about separate beings?"

"Not 'beings' or 'entities'. They refer to a child. A human child. Except. . . that human child has. . . abilities that most humans don't have. He has a sense of smell and hearing as good as any vampire's. He has. . . Slayer strength. Also, enhanced agility, moves and fighting skills. Through certain circumstances, he was raised in Quor'Toth. He was a month old when he was kidnapped and he returned three weeks later-16 years old. He's my son."

Giles was frantically polishing his glasses. Wesley was wishing he hadn't decided to switch to contacts. Spike's mouth was hanging open. Spike recovered first.

"You have a son? A human son? And who's the lucky lady that provided you with progeny, Peaches? Anyone I know?"

Angel glared at Spike with intense dislike. "Darla."

"Darla? You and Darla have a son? Isn't that rather incestuous?" A further thought occurred to Spike. "Does Buffy know?"

Angel growled. "Buffy has nothing to do with any of this. Leave her out of it. Yes, Darla and I have a son. And before you ask, Spike, I don't have any idea how or why it happened."

"And where is Darla, now?" Giles wondered.

"She's dead. She was in labor for a long time. Vampire bodies weren't exactly designed to give birth. The child was dying. Darla staked herself to give Connor life."

"Connor?" Giles repeated. "Dawn's Connor?"

"Yes. I don't want to get into it right now, but the end result was that I made a deal with W&H. I'd take over their LA branch and they'd give Connor a new life. A happy one. They wiped Wes' and the others' memories of any knowledge of Connor, and they put him into a good family-a loving family, and they made it so everyone would remember him as always being there. He doesn't know anything about any of this. He thinks he's a normal kid who grew up in a normal family and has a normal life.

And this is the boy Dawn was attracted to? How appropriate, thought Giles. Someone has a very karmic sense of humor!

"Oh," Angel added. "They also gave me the amulet that closed the Hellmouth as a sort of gift with purchase."

xxxxxxxxxx

Dawn hung up the phone with a sigh that was equal parts relief and trepidation. Relief that Giles was here, in LA, he had some answers and he wanted her to come and stay with him while they worked things out. She needed to be with the crew where she could be protected. The trepidation came into play because she didn't have the foggiest idea how she was going to convince Dad and Linda to let her go.

Dawn sighed again. One of the drawbacks of a nice, normal life was that no one understood the occasional need for Scoobyage. What could she say? Dad, Linda, I need to take some time off school to go stay with two middle-aged British men who are working with a vampire with a soul to protect me and my boyfriend from the latest apocalypse. Yep, I'll be hanging around with four or five men and there are no women involved at all. Why weren't there any women? Where was Cordy? Dad would probably let her stay with Cordy. Things were sort of backwards here. The Scooby situation was nearly all female, except for Xander, and Mom would let her go off and stay with Xander anytime. Here, the Fang Gang seemed to be exclusively male, except for Fred, and she just knew I'm staying with four men and a woman named "Fred" wasn't going to cut it either.

She had lived with Giles in England for three and a half months before Hank decided he wanted her, but since she'd been here, Dad had made several comments about the "inappropriateness" of her previous living situation.

She supposed she could lie about where she was going, but for some reason, that made her uncomfortable. Sheesh! When did I get to be such a goody-good? Linda had been great-kind and caring and made her feel like she belonged. She just couldn't betray Linda's trust by lying to her. Plus, Hey! She who doesn't learn from history is bound to repeat it. A whole lot of problems over the last few years were due to people lying! Willow lying to Giles and Tara about magic, Xander lying to Anya about being ready to get married, Buffy lying to everyone, including herself, about Spike. . . Yep. Lying generally led to badness. But what the frick was she gonna tell Dad and Linda?

xxxxxxxxxx

Dawn felt ridiculously proud of herself. Things had worked out and she hadn't had to lie at all! Hank had come home from work early to pack for an emergency business trip. He'd be gone for a week, so she hadn't needed to tell him anything at all.

After he was gone, she sat down with Linda and briefly explained the situation, mentioning that she could have lied but didn't want to, cause once you lie to someone they can't trust you, and she wanted Linda to trust her. Linda had immediately whisked Dawn off to go see her abuela who was a bruja-a sort of wisewoman/witch. Dawn got the impression she was kinda like Tara. Grandma had green-lighted the enterprise, and here she was, waiting for Giles and Wes to come and get her with full parental approval. _Nah na na nah na, Buffy Anne Summers. I'm more mature than you are! Hah!_

xxxxxxxxxx

Dawn tucked her legs under her on the couch in Wes' apartment (which for some strange reason, Giles referred to as "the davenport".) She giggled again at the thought. Whenever he left California for any length of time, he seemed to lose his grasp on the English language! Wait till I check in with Linda tonight. _Everything's fine, Linda. I'm quite comfortable on the davenport in Wesley's flat. Pip, pip, cheerio!_

Wes came in from the kitchen carrying a tray on which there was a pot of tea, a plate of weird-looking cookies and a large glass of milk, which she assumed was for her. That was of the good, cause she didn't really like tea anyway, but she'd have to talk to Wes about picking up some coke and popcorn if she was going to be staying here very long.

After filling her in on the generalized researchiness, Giles suddenly got all serious.

"Dawn, before we go into this in more detail, there's something you have to know. This may come as a shock to you; it certainly did to me. You're aware that Spike died in the Hellmouth?"

Dawn nodded as her eyes filled with tears. She tried to speak, and couldn't, so she just nodded again.

Giles looked at her in wonder. "You really do miss him, don't you? I've never quite understood the bond between you two."

The lump in her throat was getting bigger and she angrily dashed her hand across her eyelashes. She was not going to cry again. She wasn't!

Giles smiled and patted her shoulder.

"Well, then. I have some very good news, for you, at least. You remember the mystical amulet that Spike wore into the battle? Well, after he died, the amulet somehow trapped his essence, it was mailed to Angel, and Spike came back as a ghost."

Dawn stared at Giles in horror. "A ghost? Oh my god, he'd hate that! Not being able to touch anyone or fight or smoke or drink. . . this is so sad!" She frowned reprovingly. "I thought you said you had good news!"

Wes took up the explanation.

"Some time later, a package arrived in the mail. We don't know what was in it or who sent it, but when it was opened, it recorporealized Spike."

"Recorpor. . .you mean he's alive? Spike's alive?

"'Undead and kicking' actually, is the phrase he used," Giles explained.

"You've seen him? Take me to him! Now! Please, Giles. I have to see him. . . I have to. . . Oh, god! Spike's alive!"

Dawn had her coat on and was by the door before either Giles or Wesley could stand. She fidgeted with excitement, not quite daring to believe until she could actually see and touch him.

"Hurry, please!"

xxxxxxxxxx

Wesley knocked at the door of a basement apartment in a nondescript building that had seen better days, while Dawn shifted her weight from one foot to the other like a racehorse waiting for the gate to open.

Wes knocked again.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, I'm. . ."

Spike opened the door, and was immediately knocked backwards as something that felt like a St. Bernard threw itself into his arms and frantically began touching his arms, face and shoulders.

"Dawn? Nibblet?"

"Oh, Spike, it is you! It's really you!"

Dawn was laughing and crying simultaneously as Spike enfolded her into a bear hug that came close to cracking her ribs. He eased off a bit as he felt the "oomph" of air rushing out of her lungs. Tightly grasping her upper arms, he held her away from him so he could look at her, then gathered her close again.

Wes and Giles wore identical expressions at this unseemly display of excessive emotion. Neither Spike nor Dawn noticed.

xxxxxxxxxx

Once again back at Wesley's apartment, the four "Scrappies" got to work, having made several stops on the return trip for provisions. The contents of Wes' kitchen had expanded with the addition of a 12-pack of coke, extra-butter movie-style microwave popcorn, cocoa puffs and shredded wheat cereals, several frozen pizzas and four pints of pig's blood. The decimated remains of a box of Krispy Kreme donuts littered the coffee table.

Dawn clung like a burr to Spike's side, frequently touching him as if to assure herself that he was really there.

Joyce had always liked Spike, also, frequently inviting him over for hot cocoa or to watch Passions. Giles decided he would never understand the overwhelming affection all three Summers had for Spike; he may as well just accept it and move on.

Since she had apparently recovered from her shock over learning Spike was alive, they may as well hit her with the other shocking news tonight. That would give her a chance to sleep on things, process the information, and they could start fresh in the morning.

"Dawn," Giles began. "We've just discovered some news about Connor that you may find somewhat disturbing."

"Disturbing? After everything else that's been going on? Hey, as long as you're not gonna tell me the monks inserted him into a pretend family, and that he's really my twin brother, which would really be like ewww, I'm good to go."

"We're fairly certain he's not your brother," Wes interjected. "As for the rest. . ."

"Bite me! He's some mystical key, too, isn't he? I knew that happy family of his was too perfect to be real!" Dawn sighed. "OK, let's have it. What's the scoop? We can still date each other, right? I mean, as long as he's not my brother or anything."

"He's Angel's son," Spike reported. "Though how the Great Poof managed that, I'll never know. And, seriously, Bit, I'd think twice about getting involved with that family. . ."

"Yeah, sure," Dawn broke in. "I can just see the Holiday plans, now. 'Connor, darling, should we spend Thanksgiving with Buffy and Spike and Christmas with your father this year, or the other way around? Cause getting everybody together for one big, happy family reunion is never gonna happen.'"

Three pairs of eyes stared at her in shock.

"What?" Dawn shrugged. "I'm just sayin'."

Spike shuddered at the thought of Dawn married.

Wesley shuddered at the thought of Angel socializing at large family get-togethers.

Giles shuddered at the thought of Buffy and Angel and Spike being in the same room together for any reason.

Spike grinned at the thought of Buffy and him as a couple, functioning as parents to Dawn.

Dawn rolled her eyes at all three of them and snagged the last donut.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Continued in Part 3


	3. Chapter 3

**The Dream**

by spikeNdru

**Chapter 3 **

Lilah had always been a player. The combination of ruthless intellect and sexually-charged femininity had gotten her out of sticky situations on more than one occasion. She planned to come out on top this time, too. The inside information she had gleaned would be worth a lot in the right hands. It was up to her to decide whose hands would be the right ones.

If the Senior Partners actually managed to pull this off, she'd end up a very small fish in a very large pond, so to speak. It was actually a rather ingenious plan. Use the Key to open the gates to all dimensions, then use Sahjhan to stop time. The only beings not affected by the time flux would be the Senior Partners and the multi-dimensional higher-ups under their command. The SP would be able to effect whatever changes in reality they desired-murder key people, change laws, re-draw international boundaries, re-distribute wealth; the list was virtually limitless-in however many worlds they chose to change.

With time stopped indefinitely, the Senior Partners could move through worlds as a person walking through a warehouse full of mannequins, remaking reality in their image. There was no limit to the things they could do-all of which would be a fait accompli the instant they restarted time. When every populated world in existence was under their control, what use would they have for Lilah Morgan?

If, on the other hand, she provided this information to The Powers That Be and their agents, and if those agents were successful in stopping the Senior Partners, they'd owe her big time. She could write her own ticket.

The only question was which side would come out on top? Angel and his crew, in conjunction with the Sunnydale contingent, had been inordinately successful at stopping whatever came their way. . . so far. Could they do it again? She wasn't about to get caught with her pants down, playing for the losing team. She also wasn't about to sit back and do nothing; she'd definitely be playing. She just needed to calculate the odds, cover all the bases and figure out all the angles before choosing a side

xxxxxxxxxx.

It had been a most eventful day. Nothing more could be accomplished tonight, as the Scrappies were too tired and emotionally overloaded to even think straight. Wes suggested they call it a night and start fresh in the morning.

Giles had retired to the spare bedroom, Dawn was bunking on the couch, and since Spike refused to let her out of his sight, Wes provided him with a blanket and he bedded down on the floor beside the couch.

Finally alone in his own room, Wes found himself unable to sleep. He felt. . . devastated. He no longer knew who he was or who he had been. What had he lost? What was real? He felt a cold rage building deep inside. He had long practice in tamping down rage, thanks to Roger Wyndam-Price. Yet all the abuse he had suffered at his father's hands could not compare with his current feelings of violation. He had always been able to escape his father's "discipline" by retreating into his own mind, but his mind was no longer a safe place to be. There were hidden traps and locked doors to which only Angel held the keys.

How could he trust Angel any longer? How could he trust himself? Yet, he must. It was imperative that he not allow this to affect the current mission. There was too much at stake. He could not be the one to drive the final wedge into the current team.

Gunn was an unknown factor and neither he nor Angel trusted him at present. Neither Angel nor Giles fully trusted Spike, although he was obviously devoted to Dawn. The permutations were quite interesting. Wes took out pen and paper and began a diagram of alliances. Gunn was off on his own, connected to none of them. Fred was connected to both him and Angel, but if there were dissention between Angel and him, on whose side would Fred be? And which memories of hers were modified?

Dawn was strongly connected to Connor, Spike and Giles. Wes drew solid lines from Dawn to Connor, to Spike and to Giles. He connected Spike and Giles with a series of dashes. Angel's connections to Connor, Spike and himself were also made with broken lines. A solid line connected him to Giles.

If they were to have any hopes of averting disaster, they would all have to put aside their feelings of mistrust and work together. It was imperative. It was also very difficult. There was no other choice. He must put his feelings aside and give Angel his wholehearted support for now.

Having made his decision, Wes was finally able to relax and sleep.

xxxxxxxxxx

On the other side of town, Angel was also unable to sleep. He was terrified at the thought of facing Connor. What would happen to Connor when he learned his happy family life was all a lie? A lie perpetrated upon him by his vampire father who couldn't think of any other way to save him from the repercussions of all the other lies that had made up his previous life.

Maybe he hadn't really thought things through when he made the deal with Lilah. And he had always accused Spike of being the impulsive one! He would have to face Connor, and eventually Wes, Fred, Lorne and Gunn, while still managing to stop an apocalypse. Maybe he wasn't Champion Material after all. Maybe he was just a manipulating, lying screw-up who took the easy way out.

No! He couldn't allow himself to think like this. Cordy believed in him; the least he could do for her was to believe in himself. So many people had sacrificed so much for him and for the mission, he would do what he must; face whatever he had to face. He was Angel-he beat the bad guys.

And she believed in him.

xxxxxxxxxx

Wesley awakened in a much better frame of mind-which lasted until he entered the bathroom and found himself unable to shower.

Approaching the kitchen, where his houseguests had congregated, he asked, "Who left all the wet towels on the floor?"

Dawn answered immediately, "Spike."

"Did not!"

"Did, too!"

"Did not."

"Did, too."

"Did not!"

"Didtoodidtoodidtoo!"

Wesley raised an eyebrow and looked to Giles for help. "Are they always like this?"

Giles removed his glasses and began polishing them. "Unfortunately, yes."

"I can take them to the Laundromat," Dawn offered helpfully.

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary. Since we have no idea how long it will take to accomplish our goals, it might be wise to purchase some extra towels and bedding."

"Oooh, shopping! Can I come?" Dawn requested.

"Certainly," Wes smiled. "I'd be glad of the company.

And he was. Dawn was surprisingly intuitive for a seventeen year old girl.

As soon as they had gotten into the car and fastened their seat belts, she turned to him and placed her hand on his forearm.

"Wes," Dawn looked at him with concern. "There's something really bothering you, isn't there? Something more than this whole 'save the world' deal. It's something personal. And if you want to talk about it, maybe I can help. Or if not help, I could just listen, anyway. Um, if you don't want to talk about it, I mean, if it's none of my business, and it probably isn't, and it could be something totally not connected to any of this stuff, I'll understand. You can just tell me to mind my own business, you certainly won't be the first person to say that to me, but if there's anything I can do to help, I'd like to and okay, shutting up now."

Wes let out a burst of laughter and Dawn giggled in return and added, "I've also been called nosy and told that I talk too much. I mean, Buffy is like the 'Triumph the Insult Dog' of Sunnydale, so go ahead, you won't hurt my feelings."

Looking into her clear eyes, he saw the echo of more pain than any teenager should have to carry, and he realized that she was in a similar situation. None of her memories were real. She had been completely manufactured as a person and was aware of it, yet had found a way to live with it. Yes, he decided, he could talk with her and she would understand.

xxxxxxxxxx

Returning, laden with bags full of towels, pillows, several blankets and something Dawn had called a "comforter" that actually did look rather comforting, in addition to toothbrushes, shampoo, conditioner and, in lieu of soap, something called "body gel", Wes found his parking space occupied by a forest green Jeep.

"He's here!" Dawn exclaimed. "Connor's here."

Wes felt very disconcerted at the thought of finally meeting Connor. He let her out, with her share of the packages, in front of his building and drove away to search for a parking spot. He was glad of the brief reprieve to get his unaccustomed emotions under control.

Dawn felt no such ambiguity. She hurried to Wes' apartment, knocking with her elbow, as her hands were full of shopping bags. Spike answered the door with an odd look on his face.

"Connor's here, isn't he?" Dawn brushed past Spike with an apologetic smile and shoved her load of bags into his arms. As she rushed into the living room, Connor stood and they hugged each other tightly for a long moment. Reluctantly breaking away, but continuing to tightly hold his hand, Dawn turned to Giles and Spike.

"So you've met Connor," she said brightly. The "what do you think?" was implied, but as obvious as if she had spoken it aloud.

Giles smiled. "We have indeed. And he's a fine young man," he added, answering her unspoken question.

Spike continued to stare at Connor, one eyebrow raised, head tilted to the right, amusement evident in his sparkling blue eyes.

"He has Angel's nose and hair colour, but the rest is pure Darla-eyes, mouth, chin, hair texture, and, lucky for you, mate, forehead."

Connor gave him a quizzical look, but Spike only smirked, and failed to elaborate. Dawn jabbed her elbow into Spike's ribs-not at all gently.

"Spike. Shut up."

"Right," he replied and made himself comfortable on the far end of the couch.

Connor and Dawn exchanged wordless glances. _What was he talking about?_ Dawn's answered: _ Don't worry. Just ignore him. We'll talk about it later._

Giles went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He was sure Wesley would be in need of a bracing cup of tea after his shopping excursion with Dawn. Remembering the horror of his own trips to the mall with various Potentials, he poured a measure of brandy into Wes' cup.

The whistling kettle had covered the sounds of Wesley's entrance, and Giles had already poured the boiling water over the tea leaves in the pot by the time he noticed the dead silence in the room.

Wesley and Connor were staring at each other in shock. Wes looked ghastly. His tanned skin was the color of old parchment and he was grasping his throat as if he were in pain and unable to breathe.

Connor didn't look any better. Dawn was clutching his arm with both hands, which may have been the only support keeping him on his feet.

Spike went to Wesley and guided him to a chair as Wes was obviously incapable of navigating under his own power.

"You remember everything, don't you?" Wes spoke without taking his eyes from Connor's. Connor could only nod. "As do I," Wes concluded.

Dawn knew she had to get Connor out of there, if she was to have a chance of reaching him. He looked like he was close to going catatonic and Willow wasn't here to bring him out of it, like she'd heard Willow had done for Buffy. She yanked on his arm and he glanced down at her.

"Let's go for a walk," Dawn suggested, dragging him toward the door. "We need some air."

As soon as they had gone, Giles handed Wesley the tea cup containing the brandy, and when he had drunk it, took the cup back to add tea and a second measure of brandy. Pouring additional cups for himself and Spike, Giles carried the tea tray into the sitting room as Wesley began to talk.

xxxxxxxxxx

Once outside the apartment, Connor dropped to a crouch, wrapping his arms around his knees. He couldn't seem to stop shaking.

"My life. . . my parents. . . my family-none of that is real. I'm not real." He raised anguished eyes to look at Dawn.

She gently brushed the hair back from his face. "I'm not either. It's OK, Connor, you'll get through this-we'll get through this together."

"How can we? You don't even know who. . . what. . . I am!"

"Yes, I do!" Dawn spoke with certainty. "I know who you are. Who you were doesn't really matter so much. Spike told me that. He said it doesn't really matter how you start out, it's how you end up. So you originally started as the mystical child of two vampires. So what? That's not who you are now."

"But knowing that about me. . . I was raised in a hell dimension so terrible you can only get to it by tearing reality. I tortured my father by sinking him to the bottom of the ocean. I'm not a good person. I'm not even sure I am a person. How could you still like me?"

"Do you like me?" Dawn asked quietly.

"Of course-you know I do!"

"Even if you didn't know who or what I was either? I didn't start out as a human. I started as a mystical green blob of energy-a key that unlocks dimensional portals. A bunch of monks made me human, dropped me into a family and changed everybody's memories so they'd think I'd always been there. Just like you. When I first found out, I freaked. I cut myself, started fires, acted out. I figured it didn't matter what I did because I wasn't real. Spike's the one who helped me understand that no matter how you start out, your life can be whatever you make it to be. I'm me now. I'm Dawn Summers. Are you going to stop liking me now that you know what I was?"

Connor stood and put his arms around her. "It doesn't make any difference to me what you used to be."

"And it doesn't make any difference to me, either, about you."

"But what about my parents and my sisters? They don't know?"

"Nope," Dawn replied. "My Dad and his girlfriend don't know either. My Dad thinks I'm a normal kid-his own daughter. My mom knew. And my sister and Giles and Spike. It's not easy, developing your own life, and lots of time it gets pretty schitzy, keeping track of who remembers what, but you can do it. I can help you."

"Uh, Dawn? The Spike I just met? Is that the Spike you told me about that used to be a vampire and died? Um, what exactly is he now?"

Dawn laughed. "He's still a vampire and he totally died. I mean, not just undead, but burned to ash. I'm not sure what happened, but he came back as a ghost and now he's real, too. He knew your first parents for like a hundred years, so if there's anything you want to know about them, Spike's the one to ask. Oh, wait! I don't think he likes your father very much, but that might be because they both have a thing for my sister, so you might want to keep that in mind if you talk to him about Angel. I'm not sure how he feels about Darla."

"I don't know anything about Darla," Connor said regretfully.

"Hey, don't worry about it! The way people keep coming back from the dead around here, she'll probably show up anytime now and you can ask her yourself. You did meet her in Art class already, after all."

xxxxxxxxxx

Spike cocked his head, listening. "They're coming back, now," he informed the others.

Giles looked at Wes with concern in his eyes. "Will you be alright, Wesley? Spike and I can speak with the children if you would prefer to be elsewhere."

Wes unconsciously touched his throat again. "No, I'm fine. The issues I have are with Angel, not Connor. Angel was correct; this is not the time to dwell on those issues. When this is all over, then we shall see if Angel and I can come to some resolution. Right now, it is Connor who needs our support."

Dawn and Connor entered the apartment and paused in the entryway, unsure of their reception. Spike was at Dawn's side in an instant. He touched her hair and looked searchingly into her eyes.

"You okay, Nibblet?"

"Yeah, I'm fine and Connor will be, too, once he really gets that he's still the same person and not some. . . thing."

Spike clapped Connor on the shoulder. "No worries, mate. I was an 'evil, disgusting thing' for years, and I did alright. Didn't stop Pint-size here from wanting to be my friend." He raised an eyebrow in the direction of the others. "Rupert, on the other hand. . ."

"Spike." Giles broke in. "The situation with Connor is very different. Please," he gestured to Connor and Dawn, "come and join us.

When everyone was comfortably seated in the living room- Connor sitting stiffly upright at one end of the couch, Spike sprawled at the other end, Dawn between them, leaning against Connor, with her feet in Spike's lap and Wesley and Giles in the matching armchairs-no one was quite sure how to begin.

Giles began to polish his glasses, out of long habit whenever he found himself in a stressful situation. He cleared his throat and addressed Connor.

"Apparently, when you and Wesley came face-to-face, that contact negated the spell and you both obtained full access to your memories."

Connor spoke haltingly. "I think I already had the memories, I just didn't know what they were. Some parts of the Dream now make perfect sense, but there are other parts I don't understand."

Wesley leaned forward, loosely clasping his hands between his knees.

"Connor, if there is something you don't understand, perhaps I can help."

"In the dream, I was a baby. . . I had parents who loved me very much. There was laughter and warmth and I felt safe and loved. Those parents-in The Dream-they were Angel and Cordelia? But I don't remember Darla."

"Yes," Wesley confirmed. "Darla sacrificed herself to give you life. Her body was unable to give birth. . . she felt your heartbeat slowing and she knew she was losing you. She loved you very much and she asked us to make sure you knew that, when you were old enough to understand. You were dying, and knowing you both couldn't survive, she made the choice of a loving mother and staked herself, allowing you to live. Angel loved you with all his heart. You were a miracle. . . a son he never thought himself able to have. The wonder in his eyes whenever he looked at you. . ."

Wesley paused and drank down his cold tea. "Cordelia loved you like a son. She and Angel were the best of friends and they bonded further over you. They had. . . we all had such high hopes. . . plans for raising you. Angel wanted to take you to hockey games, Gunn was looking forward to teaching you to play baseball and basketball. Lorne sang you to sleep. . ." Wesley's throat tightened and he couldn't go on.

"Then he lied. My fath- Holtz lied about everything."

Wesley nodded. "Yes, he did. Holtz was a good man, but he became bitter and twisted with his need for revenge. Angelus had destroyed his family, so he determined to destroy Angel's."

"Then they really are two different. . .people? Angelus and Angel, I mean?" Connor asked.

Spike spoke up. "That's how Angel sees things so, for him, it is true. Had a soul forced down his throat, din't he, an' his demon din't like that a bit. The demon was bloody pissed and Angel, who din't have a bleedin' clue as to what was goin' on, called the demon part Angelus and shoved him way down deep when he reinvented the souled part of himself as Angel. Spends his life terrified that Angelus will get free and the only way he can stop that is by keepin' him in a box as somethin' separate from his normal self."

Spike grinned at Wesley. "That's why Angel's all dark an' broody all the time. Angelus got all the personality."

Giles looked at Spike with interest. "You don't have that dichotomy, do you? I've always wondered about that."

Spike tried to explain. "When I got chipped I had to mostly stop bein' a vampire. Couldn't hurt humans, couldn't fight, couldn't kill. Had to find other ways of meetin' my needs. Had to suss out my place in the world. Reached an accommodation with my demon long before I got my soul. Demon can be controlled if you just learn how. I give mine what it wants, but I say how. Demon likes to fight? Plenty of brawls a bloke can get into without killin' humans. When I just couldn't stomach another swallow of soddin' pig's blood, well, Willie always had the O neg on tap. Lot's of little accommodations you can make, if you want to. Me an' my demon, we get along alright. We're both part of Spike. That's how it works for me, anyway. Angel's different."

Dawn giggled. "So there's no alternate personality, no. . . Spikeus-just you."

He nodded and smiled back at her. "Just me. What you see is what you get."

xxxxxxxxxx

Once the new sleeping arrangements had been decided upon to accommodate the addition of another houseguest, everyone was more than ready to turn in. Dawn inherited the spare bedroom previously occupied by Giles, Giles was bunking in with Wesley, Connor had the couch, and Spike, once again, took the floor, enhanced by the new comforter Dawn had bought for him.

Spike had briefly protested his separation from Dawn. He had failed once to keep his promise to a lady, and nothing would stand in his way again.

"You got your own room while I had to share with about a gazillion Potentials! Turnabout's fair play," she announced.

Hugging him tightly, she whispered, "Take care of Connor for me, okay?" and gleefully appropriated Giles' former room.

Within a very short time, the relaxed sounds of respiration told Spike that all four humans were asleep. He soundlessly got up and went into the kitchen to heat a mug of blood, removing it before the microwave could produce its distinctive "ding".

One hip leaning against the sink, he stared out the window as he sipped. It never really got dark in Los Angeles. Too many lights, too many people. He missed the velvety darkness; the darkness that was never really black, but appeared blue to him due to his enhanced night vision. He sensed a presence behind him and took another sip before saying quietly, "Hullo, Darla."

The presence moved to stand before him, intently searching his eyes.

"It's true," she said softly. "You do have a soul."

Spike tilted his head and raised one eyebrow in surprise. "So do you."

"Yes," she replied. "When I died the Powers reunited me with my soul. They said I earned it. I was used by the Powers to fulfill the prophecy by carrying Connor, but I always had free will as to the actual birth. Apparently, if I had done nothing, the hope of averting the apocalypse would have died in my womb. By loving him and sacrificing myself for his sake, I obtained grace and earned back my soul."

Spike produced a wicked smirk. "And Peaches' formerly exclusive club just keeps addin' new members. Getting' bigger by the day. Soon we'll have to come up with a code word an' secret handshake."

"Spike!" Darla said reprovingly.

"Got my soul. Din't lose my personality."

Darla turned to look into the living room and smiled gently. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"

"Looks like you."

Darla turned her smile on Spike. "Thank you. That was a lovely thing to say. You will help him, won't you Spike? Watch out for him?"

Spike met her eyes. "My first priority's Dawn. You understand that? But I'll do what I can for the boy."

Darla nodded and once more turned to look at Connor.

"Sleep well, my darling boy," she whispered before disappearing.

xxxxxxxxxx

Teotixouxin, possessing the body of Charles Gunn, stalked through the warren of underground rooms in an area of W&H the A.I. team had no idea even existed. He roared his frustration.

After Justine had trapped Sahjhan in the urn, one of the W&H attorneys had retrieved it and hidden it here-somewhere. When the Beast massacred the entire contingent of the LA branch, with a single exception, the employees' essences were dispersed among different hell dimensions.

Naturally, any individual essence could be summoned to Headquarters but without knowing which individual had hidden the urn, summoning them all would not be cost effective. He would just have to find the urn on his own. And he would. Oh, yes, he would. And when he did, that witless attorney would pay dearly, for failing to make his report.

Teotixouxin roared again. He or she would learn that the unwritten eighth deadly sin was procrastination.

xxxxxxxxxx

Angel had changed clothes three times already and was in the process of contemplating a fourth. Everything he owned just seemed. . . wrong. The whole wardrobe that had come with the apartment was way too corporate. Nearly everything else he owned was black. That look fairly screamed "Creature of the Night". Or, conversely, "I'm from New York."

Why didn't he own any normal clothes? And how did normal people dress anyway?

He searched the very back of the closet and came up with a shirt that had to be Lorne's. And Angelus' leather pants. Now there was a look!

_Hello, Connor. I'm your pimp Daddy._

He looked down at himself again. The black pants could stay, but he exchanged the burgundy shirt for a gray turtleneck sweater. There. He looked like Wesley. Connor was staying with Wes, so he must have developed some level of trust for him.

_Hello, Connor. I'm your father. You can trust me. I look just like Uncle Wes._

This was too soon. Maybe he should put off this meeting for a few days. It was only yesterday that Connor found out he wasn't the person he had thought he was. The kid should have some time to adjust.

_Hello, Connor. I'm your father. I'm such a good father that I put a spell on you and all my friends that wiped all of your memories. So, how've you been?_

How could he face Connor? What could he say to him? He could never explain. Angel wasn't sure he understood anything anymore, so how could he expect Connor to understand?

_Hello, Connor. I'm your father. I used to help the helpless, but now I'm CEO of an evil law firm. And what are your career goals?_

He couldn't do this! Connor would hate him forever. And why wouldn't he? Why should Connor feel anything but revulsion for him?

_Hello, Connor. I'm a vampire. I used to be the Scourge of Europe. I murdered thousands of people. I haven't murdered anyone lately. Except for that time I tried to smother your Uncle Wes. Oh, and I bit Faith. And planned to chop Cordelia's head off. Come give me a hug._

There was no way this would go well.

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Continued in Chapter 4


	4. Chapter 4

**The Dream**

**by spikeNdru **

**Chapter 4**

**Note: Although still rated PG-13, this chapter contains character death.**

Wesley hung up the phone and turned to his guests.

"That was Angel. He's on his way over."

Wes wondered if he looked as disconcerted as everyone else. The level of nervous tension in the room increased by several degrees. Dawn was the first to break the silence.

"Wes? You know that place about a block away called Finnegan's? That's a bar, isn't it? With pool tables and stuff?"

Wesley looked confused, but nodded. "I believe they have a pool table. They do have a dart board."

"Good," Dawn said. "You and Spike should go there sometime. To play pool. Or play darts. Have some fun. How about now? Now would be a good time to go to Finnegan's for an hour or two. At least an hour. You've been working really hard and you deserve some fun. At least an hour's worth of fun. Maybe two. I'll be fine here with Giles and Connor. And Angel. You and Spike go and have some fun."

"You tryin' to get rid of us, Bit?"

"Well, DUH!"

Giles looked at her admiringly. "Actually that's a very good idea. We all want the initial meeting between Connor and Angel to go as smoothly as possible. If there are fewer people here, it might make things more comfortable for them both."

"And Wes an' I just happen to be the select few?"

"The few. The proud. The brave," Dawn intoned.

The three Brits looked puzzled.

"U.S. Marine recruitment slogan," Connor offered, helpfully.

In any event, I think Dawn is right," Wesley said. "Come, Spike. I believe we are being banished to Finnegan's."

xxxxxxxxxx

Dawn's timing was impeccable. Only minutes after she shooed Spike and Wes out for a fun night of beer, darts and snooker, there was a hesitant knock at the door.

Giles opened the door to see Angel, frozen in place. He had never seen a look of such fear, hope, vulnerability and naked longing on anyone's face. Especially on Angel's usually impassive countenance.

"Come in, Angel," he spoke gently, stepping back to allow Angel entrance.

Angel seemed to be mentally willing his feet to move. His usual assurance completely gone, Angel currently looked every one of his 250-plus years.

Angel entered the sitting room and saw Dawn and Connor sitting close together on the couch, Dawn gripping his right hand tightly in both of hers.

Angel looked at Connor, drinking in the sight of him as a man lost and wandering in the desert might view a cool, green oasis. His mouth opened and closed, but he couldn't seem to make any words.

Connor smiled nervously. "Hi, Dad. Come on in."

With the stumbling gait of a sleepwalker, Angel approached an armchair facing the couch. He lowered himself into it and again tried to speak, but forgetting to breathe. Giles slipped into the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

Taking a deep breath, Angel finally spoke. "Connor. I don't know what to say to you."

Dawn helpfully prompted, "How about 'Connor, I'm really sorry I messed with your memory and I'll never do it again. I did it because I love you and thought I was doing the right thing.'?"

Angel nodded. "What she said." He added, "I am very sorry if you've suffered because of a decision I made. I do love you, son, and I couldn't see any other options. You were in such pain, I just wanted to take the pain away. I don't have a lot of experience in healing pain; I've spent most of my life causing it. So, I did what I could, which may have been the wrong thing to do, but I just. . . I don't know anymore. I don't know if what I did was right or wrong, and if it was wrong, I don't know how to fix it. But I'd like to try, if you'll let me."

Connor looked searchingly into Angel's eyes. "I don't know either if you did the right thing. I do know that the life I now remember was pretty bad. But it doesn't feel as if I actually lived it. The life that feels like mine is the one with the happy family, the normal home and school. Camping trips with my father. Fighting with my sister. Meeting Dawn. The other lifeQuor'toth, the Hyperion, HoltzI have these memories now, but they're like the memories of a horror movie seen in a theater. I can remember them, but they're not real to me. Not like my real life. If I had to actually live in those memories, if they were real and I didn't have anything to fall back on, I don't know if I could stand it. So . . . I guess you did make the right decision, after all."

In the blink of an eye, Angel was on his feet, pulling Connor into his arms and holding him as if he'd never let go. Angel breathed in the scent of him and felt like his heart would burst. "Thank you, son," he whispered into Connor's hair. "You've given me. . . absolution."

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Harmony had finally finished the last of the typing in her In-basket, and was dusting her unicorn collection before preparing to go home. Sensing a presence, she looked up.

"Ms. Morgan," she said in surprise, "Can I help you?"

Finally registering that Lilah wasn't supposed to be here, she put both hands on her hips and looked at Lilah accusingly. "Wait a minute. You're dead!"

"So are you. Let's not get personal about it."

"Yeah, but I'm un-dead. Are you another ghost like Spike? 'Cause that would just be, like, too weird."

"Harmony, I need to see Angel."

Crossing her arms, Harmony prepared to defend her boss from unwanted intrusions, from either the quick or the dead. "And what is the nature of your business with Angel?"

"It's private. It concerns Connor."

"Who's Connor?"

"Harmony, just tell him I have very important information for him regarding Connor and Sahjhan. It's imperative that I speak with him immediately. Now. Just do it!"

Harmony felt a strange "whoosh" of something that seemed to enter her body. Her hand, of its own volition, picked up her purse and took out her car keys. "Lilah, come with me," she said in a voice not her own, and grabbed Lilah's non-solid arm, hurrying her down to the employee parking lot where Harmony had left her car.

This was really weird, Harmony thought, it felt like there was another person inside her. But she knew that person didn't mean her any harm and was actually trying to help Angel, so she shrugged and decided to go with the flow. They were apparently on their way to Wesley's apartment, so she'd let him figure it out.

xxxxxxxxxx

Spike and Wesley returned to find Angel, Giles, Connor and Dawn relaxed and laughing as Connor related a humorous incident from school. Wes heaved a sigh of relief at the evident lack of metaphorical bloodshed. Spike gloatingly slipped Dawn a 20 and whispered, "Your share of the spoils, Bit. Took it off Wes playin' 8-Ball."

Wes went to the kitchen to prepare yet another of the ubiquitous pots of tea and Dawn followed him to get cokes for her and Connor. She touched his arm with concern. "Are you okay, Wes? I mean with Angel being here and everything? 'Cause it must be hard for you."

Wes smiled and responded, "I expect I'll manage. But thank you for your concern. Things went well with Angel and Connor?"

She nodded. "They're cool. I just hope everything works out for you and Angel, too."

"Thank you," Wes said again as Dawn returned to the living room with the cokes and he continued his tea preparations.

There was a knock on the door, which Dawn offered to answer, as she was already standing.

"Oh, hey Dawn, how've'ya been?"

"Harmony?"

Running up against the invisible barrier refusing her entrance, Harmony looked at Dawn expectantly.

"Uh, Dawn? You have to invite me in."

"I don't think so!"

"What? Why not?"

"Cause the last time I invited you in somewhere you tried to kill Xander and Anya got hurt and you kidnapped me!"

"Yeah, well, I did. Sorry. But I'm not evil anymore."

"Uh-huh. That's what everybody who's evil always says, 'I'm not evil.' Like anyone would fall for that lame cliché."

"I work for Angel! I've been off human blood for months!" Harmony got an inspiration. "I wear pink! Evil guys always wear black!"

"Spike wears black and he's not evil. Maybe pink is like the 'new black' for evildoers."

Wesley appeared in the hall behind Dawn, asking "Is there someone at the door?"

Dawn giggled. "Yep."

Harmony addressed Wesley, ignoring Dawn. "Will you please tell her that pink isn't evil?"

Wes looked thoroughly confused.

"Or, wait," Harmony continued, "It's your apartment, you can invite me in. Never mind about the pink. Lilah has important information for Angel."

"Lilah?" Wes questioned, becoming even more confused.

"I'll explain it allI'll tell you everything if someone will just Invite. Me. In!"

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Wesley's apartment currently held more guests than the sum total of all visitors since he had let the place. And a motley crew they were, too! Two former Watchers trained in ancient mysticism, three vampirestwo of which were souled, two teenagersone that was the prophetic child of two vampires, and the other a mystical key older than the written word. And let's not forget two etheric presences, one souled with a link to the Powers That Be, the other under perpetual contract to the Senior Partners.

Darla had apologized to Harmony for hijacking her body and Angel promised a bonus in her next paycheck.

Everyone's attention was now focused on Lilah as she revealed the pertinent details of the Senior Partner's apocalypse. When she had given them all the information she had, Lilah looked regretfully at Wes and stated that it was time for her to return.

"Thank you, Lilah. I won't forget this. And if I'm ever in a position to do you a service, be assured that I will try to repay you."

"Don't worry about it Wes, you already tried. Remember? That meant a lot to methat you tried." Lilah sketched a salute to the others. "See ya around." And she disappeared.

Angel was skeptical. "This could be a trap. We'll have to operate on the assumption that she's setting us up."

"She's not," Darla demurred. "There was no duplicity involved. She had a final choice to make and she made it."

Wes looked at Darla thoughtfully. "When this is over, if we win, do you think . . ."

"I'll make the suggestion that Lilah be released from her contract. But that's all I can do Wesley. I don't have that kind of power. I'm really only here because of Connor. They chose me to carry him, so they allowed me to see it through to the finish. When this is over, he'll have fulfilled his destiny or he'll be dead. Either way, you won't see me again. But I'll do what I can for Lilah."

Angel led the tactical planning. "We have to find Sahjhan before they do. Wes, Giles, is there any kind of binding spell you can use to keep Sahjhan trapped until we're ready to deal with him?"

Giles answered regretfully, "There's a possible spell, but I can't perform it on my own. The last time I used it, I was imbued with the combined power of a coven in Devon, and even then, the spell was broken in a matter of minutes by the power of the witch I trapped."

Angel continued, "Okay. If we find the urn first, we can release and deal with Sahjhan on our own terms. If they get there first, we lose that advantage and are mostly reactive. Giles, Wes, hit the books for anything remotely useful. I want us armed with as much firepower as possible. Spike, your main job is to protect Dawn."

Spike nodded, satisfied with that assignment.

"Help out where you can but keep the bad guys away from her. Giles, see if you can come up with any protection spells specifically aimed at Dawn."

Connor spoke up. "Wouldn't it be better for her to stay out of the line of fire?"

Dawn began an indignant protest, but Angel cut her off.

"We don't know what mystical tricks they have up their sleeves. It's a safe assumption that they'd find her wherever she was. In this case, it's better to stay together where we can keep an eye on each other." Angel turned to his Assistant. "Harm, you in?"

"Sure. What do you want me to do?"

"First off, change your shoes."

Harmony admired the high heeled sandals she was wearing, then sighed. "They aren't real fighty, are they? Do you want me to go home and look for something else? Although my whole shoe wardrobe pretty much looks like this. In different colors and styles, of course."

Wesley went to the hall closet and after a moment of searching, returned with a worn pair of Doc Martens. "These should be about your size."

Harmony accepted them gingerly, holding them away from her with the tops of the boots pinched between her thumb and forefinger. "Ewww. They look like combat boots. Who would wear big, clunky boots like this?"

Spike raised his eyebrow and glanced at his own similarly clad feet.

"Well, yeah, and we all know what cutting-edge fashion sense you have, Spike. Besides, I'm a girl!"

Wesley explained. "They should fit you, Harmony, they belonged to Faith."

"And I say again. . ."

"Besides," Dawn interrupted, "You're going into combat, Harmony, combat boots are fashionably appropriate."

"Oh yeah, that's right. Okay, I'll wear 'em. Do I get one of those cute green and brown and tan abstract print jumpsuits, too?"

"We're goin' to Wolfram and Hart, you nit, not bloody Viet Nam!"

Dawn offered a pair of pants and sweater. Since Harmony's wardrobe was now complete, Angel got back to business.

"Harmony, your job is to protect Wes and Giles when they're engaged in spell-work and need to concentrate. Plus, back them up in a fight."

Harmony wanted to make sure she was absolutely clear on the rules.

"So it's okay if I hurt people? You won't fire me or like _fire_ me?"

"Kill anyone who isn't us," Angel responded.

Harmony smiled happily. "You got it, Boss!"

Angel looked regretfully at his sonthe son he might finally have had a chance to get to know and like. But there wasn't time. That seemed to be the story of his life. Always A day late and a dollar short.

"Connor, you and I will take on Sahjhan, himself. He's corporeal now, so he should be killable, but he's strong and he's fast and we don't know enough about him to anticipate what other skills or powers he might have. He knows about the prophecy, so his main goal will be to take you out before you get to him. I'll be right there with you. Darla, if you can come up with any mojo from the Powers, feel free to jump in at any time. Okay, people, we all know our jobs. We only get one shot at this. If we fail, it's the end of the world as we know it."

"And I feel fine," Spike sang.

The adults stared. Dawn, Connor and Harmony burst into laughter.

"REM," explained Connor.

Which, from the looks on the others' faces, made everything as clear as mud.

xxxxxxxxxx

The Scrappy Gang prepared for battle. Angel, Connor, Dawn and Giles carried swords. Giles added a crossbow strapped to his back. Spike and Wesley each selected a battle axe and Wes was additionally armed with his semi-automatic and plenty of ammo. For good measure, he strapped on his custom made collapsible blade in its forearm sheath. Harmony, imagining herself in her combat boots stealthily prowling the jungles and rice paddies of Viet Nam, decided a machete would be her most fashionable choice. Both Giles and Wes filed their pockets with talismans and other enchanted articles necessary for various spells they had memorized. Spike had unearthed a fire-retardant Nomex suit from somewhere that he insisted Dawn wear. It went under her clothes like long-johns and didn't restrict her movements, so she decided to humor him.

They were ready.

As they left the apartment, Spike leaned over and whispered to Dawn, "I dunno, Bit, feels sort of anti-climatic without the stirring motivational speeches, eh?"

Dawn rolled her eyes and they both heard what sounded suspiciously like a hastily muffled snort of laughter from Giles behind them. Spike and Dawn shared a knowing grin.

xxxxxxxxxx

Entering the elevator from the subterranean garage housing Angel's fleet of cars, Angel took out a slip of paper with the codes Lilah had given him. After keying in a series of numbers, a button appeared out of nowhere beneath the control panel. This was the same procedure that was used to access the White Room, only this time the elevator descended.

The doors opened on a warren of ancient caves. Some were painted with runes and appeared to be spell warded. Some were lined with steel and turned into vaults. Some were beautifully enhanced with limestone formations where water seepage through tiny cracks and fissures had created stalactites, stalagmites and other breathtakingly beautiful cave formations.

Connor closed his eyes and sniffed the air, turning slowly. He suddenly stopped and indicated the direction they should take. Angel nodded and the group seamlessly flowed into battle formation.

They formed a phalanx, with Angel taking point. One step behind him the next line formed. Spike on his left, Connor on his right, flanking Dawn, whose position was directly behind Angel. The rear guard formed the third line. Giles on the left, Wesley on the right, with Harmony in the center. Spike produced a feral grin. They couldn't do any better than thisthe left-handed warriors on the left, right-handed on the right. Dawn totally surrounded by the three vampires and her supernatural boyfriend. They were ready to go kick some demon ass.

As soundlessly as possible, they stalked through the labyrinthine structure, Connor's mystical connection with Sahjhan guiding them. As they passed through a largish cavern, the air was rent by the sounds of terrible screams and flapping wings. Creatures flew at them from all sides.

"What the hell. . ." Spike was engaged in battle before he could finish his sentence.

"Vampire bats?" asked Angel slashing at the biting, screaming creatures.

"Flying monkeys?" Harmony contributed.

Giles and Wesley simultaneously came up with the correct answer. "Harpies."

They fought their way through the cavern. One grabbed a handful of Harmony's hair and nearly ripped it out by the roots. "Not. The. Hair. ," she growled, shifting into game face and bit off its arm. She frantically patted her head, making sure her hair was intact, before slashing at another with her machete.

The only exit to the cavern was a low tunnel. Angel crouched and entered it, followed closely by Connor. Spike shoved Dawn in next, then entered himself. Wesley and Giles followed, with Harmony bringing up the rear in case any of the Harpies tried to follow on foot. They would be unable to fly in the tunnel.

Emerging in the other side, they checked for damage. Connor had a cut on his bicep, Giles received a shallow slash on his forehead and a section of Harmony's hair was ¼ inch longer than the rest. Giles re-filled his quiver with crossbow bolts as Wes jotted down the details he could remember in his pocket notebook.

"Amazing," Wes muttered. "I had thought they were myths."

"Everybody all right?" Angel asked. "Let's go."

They hurried past an opening on the right which spewed out noxious clouds of green gas, and from which low growls could be heard. The humans held their breath until they were safely past.

"Wow. Glad we didn't have to go in there!" Dawn commented. "That was toxic."

"Most assuredly, yes," Wes concurred.

They had been walking for 15 minutes without encountering any other obstacles, but the route Connor indicated continued to twist and turn until everyone was feeling slightly disoriented.

"How big is this bloody place anyway?" Spike wondered.

"We may have been crossing into and out of pockets of other dimensions," Giles commented. "Which could expand our dimensional physical space almost indefinitely."

"Oh, joy!" Dawn responded. "We shoulda left a trail of breadcrumbs."

"Has anyone noticed that it seems to be getting brighter in here?" Connor asked. "Or is it just me?"

The amount of ambient light did seem to be increasing with each step they took. There was an actual golden glow coming from around a bend on the left. Making the turn, the Scrappy Gang stopped dead. In front of them was a deep gorge; slightly to their left, a waterfall flowed down the near side of the gorge. The water sparkled in the sunlight, refracting a rainbow of colors.

"How come we're not on fire?" Harmony wondered.

Wes answered, "I believe Giles was correct when he postulated that these caves contain dimensional pockets. We may be in one now. The Pylean sun did not affect Angel and that appears to be the case with this sun also."

"There doesn't seem to be any way across the gorge," Giles commented.

"There's a trail down this side," Angel pointed out. "It looks difficult, but not impassable."

They gingerly picked their way down the trail, finally coming to rest on a ledge with no apparent way to descend further.

"Where do we go from here?" Dawn asked.

Spike had been surveying their position and he thought he had the answer. "Behind the waterfall, of course. The secret passage is always behind the bloody waterfall, innit?"

Picking their way carefully across the wet rocks, they crossed behind the thundering spray to discover an arch leading into a green meadow, studded with wildflowers. The rock wall at the opposite end of the meadow appeared to be their goal. Everyone felt vaguely uneasy as they regarded the perfect, pastoral scene before them.

"You just know anything this pretty and Disneyesque has gotta be covering up a world of bad," Dawn commented.

"Well, yeah," Spike replied. "That's pretty much a given."

Sticking closely together, they started out across the meadow. Suddenly, a lovely yellow flower grabbed Giles' leg and pulled him down. Spike whirled and slashed at the stem with his axe. The flower screamed. Dozens of tiny, beautiful fairies with razor sharp teeth surrounded them, biting at all exposed skin. Their weapons were ineffective against such tiny adversaries.

Wes searched his pockets for a spell to vanquish them, while the others swatted wildly at the horde. "Nasty pests," Giles gritted out.

The fairies seemed to freeze in mid-air, dropping like stones. Wes turned to see Harmony effectively neutralizing them with the contents of a slender silver can. "Mega-hold hairspray," she announced with satisfaction.

Carefully avoiding the grabby flowers, they made their way as rapidly as possible across the meadow. As they approached the wall of rock, Angel noticed an opening shaded by a large boulder. He glanced at Connor, who nodded. Angel slipped behind the boulder.

The passage appeared to return them to the caves, but he scouted ahead to check. The passage opened out on the opposite side of the gorge, so Angel returned to get the others.

Stopping to rest briefly beside the gorge, Giles began applying antiseptic to everyone's fairy bites. Wesley was the first to notice their missing comrade. "Where's Harmony?"

"Bloody hell!" Spike grabbed his axe and ducked back into the passageway.

Slipping around the boulder into the meadow, he stood stock still and burst into laughter at the sight of Harmony acting as matador with an enraged unicorn.

Harmony waved a pink paisley silk scarf. The unicorn lowered its head, pawed the ground and charged. Whipping out of the way, Harmony waved the pink scarf again. The unicorn dug in its hooves, spun and charged again. Harmony whirled and with a flash of her machete, cut off its horn. The unicorn continued on for several yards before dropping. Spike applauded.

Stooping to pick up the horn, Harmony joined him at the entrance to the passage. "This world is just wrong, Spike!" she said sadly. "A world where the unicorns are evil just shouldn't exist." Spike put his arm around her shoulders in a comforting gesture and led her forward to join the others.

As they approached the entrance to a large cavern, Angel put up his hand in the universal gesture for STOP. Hearing noises from the cavern, they approached slowly and as soundlessly as possible.

Entering the cavern, they fanned out but remained in battle formation. They all heard the sounds nowa combination of breaking pottery, human cursing and the growling of a jungle cat. The sounds abruptly cut off as the vampires heard what sounded like a large cat sniffing the air. The phalanx continued to edge forward. A figure stepped out from behind some stacked boxes.

"Gunn?" Angel asked incredulously.

Slitted yellow eyes looked back at him and Gunn grinned, exposing the fangs of a predator. "Gunn and more. Much more," the being hissed. "You're too late, Angel."

Teotixouxin/Gunn threw back his head and roared. In response to his summons, a variety of catlike creatures attacked. Some seemed to be normal panthers and jaguars, while others had the bodies of men with the heads of cats. The Scrappies spun into action. As the battle raged, Angel attempted to clear a path to Gunn.

His golden eyes glittered. "You're too late," he roared again, removing the stopper from the large urn he held. With a whoosh of white vapor, Sahjhan materialized and grinned, enjoying the chaos of the battle going on around him.

His eyes lit on Angel and his grin broadened. "Angelus. Finally," he said as Angel leapt for him. He batted Angel away like a fly, but Angel tucked and rolled and was on his feet in an instant, sword flashing as he fought his way back to Sahjhan.

Giles was firing crossbow bolts bringing down the leaping cats. Wes was hacking with his battle axe in his right hand and firing shots with his gun in his left. Connor and Dawn were fighting back to back, blades whirling.

Angel attacked Sahjhan again, stabbing him through the upper right chest muscle, just below the collar bone. Sahjhan grasped the crosspiece, wrenching the hilt out of Angel's hand. Angel shifted into game face and flew at Sahjhan.

Gunn withdrew an ornately carved ritual knife from inside his suit jacket and started for Dawn. He raised the knife, grabbing her by the hair. Darla sparkled into existence, blinding him for the split second it took for Spike to leap between them. Gunn plunged the knife into Spike's chest and opened his mouth wide, feline fangs flashing. With snakelike speed he struck at Spike. Calling on every bit of vampiric speed he possessed, Spike turned enough that the catlike fangs buried themselves in his shoulder. In the instant that Teotixouxin was thus immobilized, Spike tilted his head and ripped Gunn/Teotixouxin's throat out. Spike grabbed the head and twisted. Hearing the neck snap, he dropped the body.

"Not this time!" he snarled.

Pulling the sword from his chest, Sahjhan disappeared and reappeared before Connor. The clash of metal rang out as Connor parried Sahjhan's thrust. The blows came faster as they engaged. Connor was a blur of motion, never allowing Sahjhan to get the upper hand; but unable to press his own advantage, he was forced to fight defensively.

The general battle continued around them as Connor searched for an opening in Sahjhan's defense. Time seemed to slow for him and the unrelenting clash of steel blades became his world. Taking a step backward, his foot struck an uneven patch on the cavern floor and he faltered slightly.

Angel saw Sahjhan's sword begin its downward arc toward Connor. He leapt between them in a burst of vampiric speed and felt the sword bite into his own neck. Angel's action gave Connor the precious seconds needed to recover, and the last thing Angel saw as he turned to dust was Connor neatly decapitating Sahjhan through his own ashes.

xxxxxxxxxx

A piece of the cavern wall slid back to reveal the elevator and the battered and bloody survivors staggered toward it. No one spoke on the way back to Wesley's apartment. Giles drove as a sobbing Harmony clung to Wes. In the back seat of the SUV, Dawn sat between Spike and Connor, tightly griping each of their hands.

Once again gathered in Wesley's apartment, they sat in silence.

Giles finally spoke. "Has anyone considered what we are to do now?"

"I want Buffy," Dawn spoke in a small voice.

"I believe I have her itinerary with me," Giles responded. "I'll contact her and I'm sure she'll come as soon as possible."

"No, not here," Dawn said. "Can't we go to wherever she is? I want to see her and I want her to meet Connor. And Spike, I think you should come, too. She needs to know that you're alive and that you kept your promise to her. This time, you saved me."

xxxxxxxxxx

Angel woke, lying on a hero's bier draped with purple cloth, a sword lying on his chest under his right hand, both covered by a massive shield. He opened his eyes to see three warrior angels touching down on the ground next to him.

Each had a wingspan of about twelve feet, it appeared to Angel, but upon landing, their wings neatly folded on their backs, so he couldn't be sure. One pair was bright gold and glinted when the angel moved. A second pair was of shining silver and the third was a glowing black, so shiny they appeared etched in neon blue.

"Welcome, Champion," the silver winged angel spoke. "You have done well. I am Michael. These are my comrades." He indicated the being with the golden wings. "Gabriel. And Azrael," he added, gesturing to the warrior with the glowing black wing feathers.

Azrael spoke. "You have done well, Champion of the Powers. It is now time for you to make a choice. You may remain here, working for the greater good from this level, joined with the warriors you knew as Alan Francis Doyle and Cordelia Chase or you may accept your reward and become human, to live until you die in your own allotted time. We give you this choice freely. Do with it what you will."

Angel felt dazed. He was no longer a vampire and no longer under a curse. He had earned the right to be happy. Happiness, or the potential for it, was such a foreign concept to him, he wasn't sure he could grasp even the idea. His mind was in a whirl.

An eternity spent with Cordelia, whom he had grown to deeply love and who knew him better than anyone ever had and loved him in spite of it all. And with Doyle, the closest thing to a true friend he had ever had. Continuing with the mission, giving him a sense of purpose, a reason for his continued existence.

His other choice was to become human again. To feel the sun on his face and to feel his heart pumping. To search out his first love and see how they felt about each other now that he could take her out of the shadows into the sun. To grow old and dieto live rather than simply exist. To give Buffy the final choice between a living, breathing human and an ensouled vampirebetween him and Spike.

Angel smiled. It seemed like all the choices he had ever made up to this point were between the lesser of two evils. This was the very first time he would get to choose the greater of two goods. This choice held the potential for happiness. After all the years of brooding and restraint, he wondered how happiness would feel.

He couldn't wait to find out.

THE END

**Author's Note:** I had given my warrior angels different names, but my beta, Lena, found these descriptions at "sanctuary-of-enlightenment" and the descriptions matched my angels so well, I renamed them.

_The Archangel Michael:_ Governs the spark and surge of life force energy. . . is often with Azrael at life's end to assist in your transition. . . He is the Great Protector, the Warrior slicing away all that impedes your natural progress through life, and that that holds you back. . .

_The Archangel Azrael:_ He is the only Angel with black wings and has no halo for his light is within him. . .As the Archangel of Spirit, he is the one to take you Home at your transition, cutting with his silver scythe, the silver cord that binds your spirit to physical form and guides you towards the Light. He is therefore known as the Angel of Death. He is also at the transition into physical life, at your birth. Also Master of the Akasic Records

_The Archangel Gabriel:_ He is connected with our emotions, cleansing, loving and intuitive self. He can aid you with your spiritual insight, growth and travels on the astral planes. . .Present at our births, he occasionally turns up at our final transition to ease us through.

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